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I think I might make more use of my comment section! I really hate writing bios; they just feel... uncanny. Forced. Like I'm trying to describe a bunch of different things, but I can only really explain one or two of them at a time, at least, accurately.

So yeah, I might just use this like a lot of people use social networking and/or diaries (I guess?) and just scribble down (minus the pencil) whatever springs to mind. Or, y'know, I might ignore this silly idea I now have. WHO KNOWS!?!?!?!

Oh yeah, if I bother doing this, I'll probably just respond to this post, because I can and because I feel like it. Or not. WHO KNOWS?!!??!?!?!?!?!

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My epiphanies are a lot like thunderstorms: they build up slowly, often over months or years, in series of thoughts, observations, emotions; these gradual buildups often go unnoticed but for feelings of foreboding or excitement, or they are noticed, but not actively, as though I don't notice that I notice them. Like thunderstorms, my epiphanies eventually do break, in sudden, blinding flashes of revelation that leave me with the thoughts, "Now I get why I remembered that thing," or, "Oh, so that's how all of these things are tied together," or frequently, "Oh yeah, I figured that was important." It's not that I suddenly know things so much as I suddenly know that I know things, that I suddenly connect the dots that were already there, that I get the one puzzle piece that lets me see what I was making this whole time.

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I am immeasurably moved by your post, Darthy. I never know such eloquence and grace could be aided by your harsh and fiery tone.

You did the unthinkable and made a masterpiece of heart-rendering drama, joyful comedy, beautiful prose and pulse-pounding action. Never in my life would I think I would find a work of media to top all media in our history of existence, but somehow, your brilliance defies that impossibility and brings forth to reality a piece of art that transcends the human senses and becomes something else entirely.

Something so exhilarating it made me sweat, words so sad they made me depressed, events so happy they made me grateful to be alive and literature so great it has made me think about what true literature is. My soul, once bound by bitterness over the stagnation of imagination of the media today, has been lifted from it's confines, and into the Nirvana that is your story.